


Duo of Fake Smilers

by puffinmuffin13



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Character Analysis, Gen, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:27:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27727472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/puffinmuffin13/pseuds/puffinmuffin13
Summary: Angie is strange. Angie is a liar. Angie is wrapped up in lies. Angie is not like Kokichi. Angie reminds Kokichi of himself.Somehow, none of these statements are lies.
Relationships: Oma Kokichi & Yonaga Angie
Comments: 3
Kudos: 43





	Duo of Fake Smilers

I am a liar. Everyone is, really. I'm just one of the few who admits it.

I've been a liar since I was born; since I began to speak and everyone knew just what kind of trouble they were in for. I was a liar when I built my family from nothing, and I was a liar when I introduced myself to my class at Hope's Peak.

My classmates are liars, too.

Shuichi lies when he says he's fine; he's horrible at those lies, but no one really wants to dig deep at why someone would lie about that sort of thing. No one really wants to know how someone is doing – they lie when they ask, in a way.

Kaede lies when she says she trusts everyone. She may say she believes in you, but she takes precautions in case you fail her and takes on the brunt of the work alone; I've seen her do it, and called her out on it, too. Maybe it's my own flawed eyes seeing these things as signs of distrust, or maybe the others lie to themselves when they say it's her being independent and helpful. Being careful.

What is "careful," anyway? Where is the line between it and paranoia; between reasonable caution and going too far? The definitions have never clicked in my brain, but maybe they get overwritten by the false facts I speak and the forged sentiments I write.

Why do I lie so much, anyway? Sometimes it's habit. Sometimes it's kindness. Sometimes it's mischief. Sometimes it's just to be rude; to see what happens and find out the consequences.

I'm not a good person, and I don't say that in a bad way. I say it as one of the few truths within my lies.

But back to my classmates. They all lie, despite how much they say my lies are what make me despicable. Maybe so; maybe I am despicable to them, but the way they word some of their insults makes me think they've never thought about themselves before in any way except the ways they've been taught to. Kaito tries to see himself as a hero, and Ryoma tries to see himself as a lost cause, and Tsumugi tries to see herself as just a normal person.

I'm not sure what Angie sees herself as, though, under her god shtick.

I'm not sure she knows where the line between caution and going too far is, either.

I can't teach her something I don't know, but I see her wide smiles and I know she's as wrapped up in lies as I am.

Why does she depend on her god so faithfully? She spins stories and tales to explain things about him; jumps between reasons and ignores her god's flaws. I don't believe she trusts in her own mind, even, because she says sometimes things that imply she relies on god instead of herself.

She is a liar, like me and the world. The unique thing about her is that she's willing to accept this fact while not realizing she's trapped in its implications.

I sit perfectly still on the stool she's asked me to – I would fidget, but Angie tells me stories I can tell my family if I don't move. She tells me what it feels like to carve shells on the beach. She tells me what it sounds like to recognize tropical birds by their calls. She tells me what it tastes like to make food from fresh ingredients. And it all sounds like something so perfect, I swear she must be mixing nostalgia with what she wishes life was like.

I can fidget when she's done, and I squirm when she shows me her finished art. It looks nothing like me – it's apparently what I act like tucked inside a silhouette of me sitting on a stool.

Angie smiles way too wide, and she lets me take the picture home to hang on my wall.

I make her a small bracelet of beads as payment (it's not thanks; never thanks from a person who knows they're not a good person like me), and she turns it into an anklet with a little attached bell.

Did that idea come from "god" too?

Or did she finally trust herself for once?

Trust is a funny thing. I don't trust others the way they trust; that's part of who I am, like my lies. I only fully trust myself on my worst days, spitting cruelty like I'm old enough to try all the different kinds of alcohol on the walls of the liqueur stores I walk past to visit the ice cream store.

Angie... Well, I'm sure you already know.

I am not a good person. Angie is a good person. Would she be a better person without her god? I'm willing to bet yes, but to take her god away would be to break my family's rules.

We do not kill. We do not break someone down into nothing.

And as long as I can, I will uphold those rules, which means I cannot grab Angie by the strings she's attached to her own limbs and play her like the puppet she's convinced herself she is.

(I loathe to think what would cause me to break those rules – to go from "not good" to "bad." But that's not important unless someone asks, and one day she did ask what would happen if I abandoned my morals. I didn't have an answer.)

Angie asks me questions sometimes, seemingly uncaring about the fact I never give her a straight answer. I'm not sure what she's looking for, but I won't ask. It's not worth it, not when I can spend my time firing back questions about her art. Apparently a lot more goes into it than I thought.

I'm not someone who thinks about contour or composition or whatever it is she rambles about while I'm half-listening. I'm a doodler, not a museum artist, and what I'm most interested in is passing the time, not sending a message or anything.

Though I guess that's obvious. No one can tell what I mean half the time, which is how I like it. Much better to keep others guessing than pulling the curtain on all that I am. I don't like the idea of being just another person to chip away at and forget once you find someone bigger or better. My life is my business – I just happen to take that message a little bit further than others. So I let myself be a spider in a web of lies laid out for unfortunate flies.

Angie can't make up her mind on whether she's one of those flies or not.

Sometimes she'll go along with the bullshit I spew, either for laughs or because "god" said to. Sometimes she'll call me out with scary degrees of accuracy, and then jump back into her happy-go-lucky smiles.

(Why am I the only one who ever gets disturbed by that?! Am I just the only one who notices she does that like me? I need to get her into a scary face contest sometime. I'm sure DICE would love her peppiness.)

Back to the point. It's simply that... I don't understand her. Which is _fascinating,_ because as supreme leader of evil it's my _job_ to understand people! And to use that understanding to manipulate them if necessary! But Angie... Nope. She'll go yippie-ki-yay and jump off a bridge for the lols, and then two days later give a speech about taking care of yourself. I can't tell if she's a hypocrite or just a dumbass.

Maybe it's somehow neither. Or both.

Angie slides a puzzle piece over to me, and I look it over with my tongue sticking out, confirming that it does, in fact, go with the section of the puzzle I'm working on. I don't remember whose idea it was to set out a class puzzle in the main area of the dormitories – probably Kaede's – but Angie and I are having fun now, and that's all that matters.

Sometimes I talk a lot, but not now. Angie's talking now, something about the Pokemon we're building to look like on the box. I prefer Digimon, but Pokemon's nice too, so I let her chatter and joke when it's appropriate.

To think, everyone else could have this level of friendship with me if they just got to know me! For shame, letting their dislike of my lies get in the way of a perfectly good friendship!

... That's a lie.

I don't mind if they don't like my lies; I've accepted the fact most people don't like that part of me for years now. As long as they're not liars themselves and thus hypocrites (looking at _you,_ Kaito "I never have problems" Momota and Maki "I am perfectly harmless" Harukawa), I really couldn't give a shit. And on another note, they'd never have the kind of friendship I have with Angie, because every relationship is different. I spend movie night with my family in a different way than I trade insults with Miu or try to tolerate bugs for Gonta's sake. So really, my entire statement was a lie!

Wait, it was more than one statement I lied in, wasn't it.

... Screw it, it's fine, back to Angie being the local lie cryptid.

I almost wish – which I never do, because I don't believe in wishes – oops, that was another lie! Or was it? – that I could understand Angie. Maybe if we fused together like in one of Tsumugi's stranger magical girl animes, we could see what what's wrong with the both of us and fix it. But then, that would be putting everything I am out to show, and I already said that's not my style. So unfortunately that's off the table.

But sometimes Angie comes to me with a smile that feels genuine and not fake, and I feel like maybe I can learn to understand her.

Sometimes she tells me about an idea of hers without crediting every last detail to god, and I feel like maybe she can find a healthy balance with her religion.

Sometimes she drags me out to events with the class, and I feel like everyone could learn a thing or two from how easily Angie found it to extend friendship to someone who isn't all that good.

Maybe that's just my flawed thinking, though. I'm confident enough in my skills to not fall to pieces with an insult or glare, not naive enough to think I'm better than everyone else in the world (yet).

I'm a liar, after all. Everyone is, including Angie.

Angie takes my hand to paint a sun onto the back of it. A wobbly moon adorns her wrist, my first attempt at using the glowing paints that Angie brought over for our sleepover.

Sometimes I wonder if my lies are worth anything if I keep going too far with them.

And sometimes I wonder if Angie likes grape ice cream.

And if she'd like to try some with a liar like me.


End file.
